


Terminal

by holtzbabe



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Support Groups, sorry - Freeform, this idea came to me in the middle of the night i don't know, this is supposed to be a funny fic just fyi, unbetaed once again so if this is terrible i have no way of knowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:42:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16227893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzbabe/pseuds/holtzbabe
Summary: On the other side of the circle, there’s a blonde woman slouched in her seat who hasn’t taken her eyes off Erin since she sat down. The staring is making her uncomfortable, but she supposes the woman gets a bit of a free pass, considering she’s terminally ill.





	Terminal

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this came from two sources: A) the "I'd talk to you at an AA meeting" line and 2) the improv line in Holtzmann Gone Wild where she says that she has a terminal illness.
> 
> ...despite how that sounds, this is not a sad fic even in the slightest. I swear.

“Welcome,” the short, matronly woman at the head of the circle says, spreading her arms. “For those of you who are new, I am Amrita. My name means ‘immortal,’ but we in this room know better than most that there is no such thing. Coping with terminal illness is not easy, and I am proud of each and every one of you for taking the first step and being here today. There is strength in seeking support.”

Erin pales, then scrambles for her purse. She’s halfway out of her chair when Amrita looks to her.

“You—what is your name?”

“Um…Erin Gilbert?” Erin swallows.

“Where are you going, Erin?”

“I…shouldn’t be here.”

Amrita’s face softens sympathetically. “You are not alone in thinking that, Erin.”

“No, I mean—I’m not dying.”

Amrita nods. “Denial,” she says calmly. “We have all been there.”

Nods all around the circle.

“It’s hard to accept,” one man says, “but once you do, you’ll feel freer.”

“Please sit down, Erin,” Amrita says. The way she keeps saying Erin’s name is freaking her out.

Erin slowly sinks back down into the plastic chair.

She’s made a grave mistake.

They go around the circle and everyone introduces themselves along with their diagnosis. Some of them share how much time they have left—others don’t.

By the time it gets to Erin, she feels sick to her stomach. She hesitates.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t feel comfortable,” Amrita says.

Erin clears her throat. “Yeah, that’s…yeah. I don’t feel comfortable.”

Amrita nods and moves on to the girl beside her, who’s painfully young. Erin looks elsewhere. This is too much for her. She should have just left anyway. Not only has she missed the _actual_ support group she was here to attend, but now she’s going to be depressed for weeks.

On the other side of the circle, there’s a blonde woman slouched in her seat who hasn’t taken her eyes off Erin since she sat down. She’s wearing a purple crop top, emerald-green bellbottoms, suspenders, and a leather jacket. Yellow-lensed glasses shield her eyes—there’s no sorrow in them, unlike many of the other people in the circle, but rather unabashed interest. Erin doesn’t understand why—she’s not that interesting.

The staring is making her uncomfortable, but she can’t exactly do anything about it. Besides, she supposes the woman gets a bit of a free pass, considering she’s terminally ill. She introduces herself as Holtzmann, and says she’s got “a little of this, a little of that.”

After introductions, Amrita opens up a discussion by asking what people are afraid of. The answers vary. Some people voice concerns that death is going to be painful. Some people are scared that the financial burden on their loved ones is going to be too much. Some people are afraid that they’re never going to get to do everything they wanted to.

The staring woman, Holtzmann, raises her hand. “I’m scared about what’s going to happen to my children.”

Sad nods of agreement.

“I don’t know how they’re going to get by without me,” Holtzmann continues. “I don’t even know who’s going to take care of them.”

“That segues nicely into our main topic today,” Amrita says, standing to write the word _wills_ on the chalkboard behind her. She underlines it. “Let’s talk about preparation…”

The rest of the session drags by painfully. The second Amrita wraps it up, Erin is out of her seat again. There are refreshments set out and most people seem like they’re sticking around, but she wants to get out of here as fast as possible.

Before she can make a break for it, Amrita corners her.

“Thank you for coming today, Erin,” she says calmly. “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Right, yes. Definitely.” Erin’s eyes go to the door. “Um, I actually have to run. I’ve got something else to get to. It was nice meeting you.”

“Will you try to come back next week?”

“I—maybe,” Erin lies.

Amrita nods. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Erin.”

“Thanks, you too,” Erin says weakly.

She walks as quickly as she can towards the door and breathes a sigh of relief when she makes it out into the hallway.

“Erin,” a voice says behind her.

She has half a mind to keep walking, but she turns. It’s the blonde woman, Holtzmann, hanging out of the doorframe.

“Yes?”

The woman joins her and extends a gloved hand. “Holtzmann.”

Erin warily shakes her hand, trying to remind herself that Holtzmann doesn’t have much time left, so she should probably be nice to her.

“Dr. Erin Gilbert,” she says. “Um. I’m really sorry?”

Holtzmann walks with her down the hallway. “For what?”

“For, uh…your…condition?”

“I’m dying, you mean,” Holtzmann says bluntly. “That’s everyone’s condition.”

“It’s not mine,” Erin says before she can stop herself.

Holtzmann raises an eyebrow. “You’re human, aren’t you? Everyone’s dying. That’s the human condition.”

They stop at the end of the hallway by the front door.

“Well, yeah, but I meant—” Erin shakes her head and lowers her voice— “I don’t have a terminal illness.”

Holtzmann shrugs. “Neither do I.”

Erin frowns. “Really? Then why—why were you in that support group?”

“Why were you?”

“It was a mistake,” Erin says. “I came for a different group and went to the wrong room. By the time I realized, Amrita wouldn’t let me leave.”

“She does that,” Holtzmann says.

“Why were you there if you aren’t terminally ill?” Erin presses.

Holtzmann shrugs again. “I was lonely and wanted to make some friends.”

“And you thought…a good place to make friends was…the group where everyone is terminally ill and about to die?”

“Dying people are real in a way that a lot of people aren’t,” Holtzmann says. “More honest and genuine. I like that in my friends.” She smiles. “Besides, I tried other groups. What one were you actually here to attend? I bet I can guess. I’ve been to almost all of them.”

“That’s personal,” Erin says, face colouring.

“AA?” Holtz winks. “I’d talk to you at an AA meeting.”

Is she _flirting?_

Erin shakes her head.

“Narcotics Anonymous?”

“No substance abuse, thank you very much,” Erin says.

“Single parent support group? Actually, scratch that, that meets at a different time. I still go to that one.”

“Right, you have kids. You mentioned that earlier. I didn’t realize you were a single parent…is your ex-husband still involved at all?”

Holtzmann looks horrified. “Okay, first of all, the assumption that I’m heterosexual is appalling.”

Erin blushes even more. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Could you _imagine?_ Gross. And _married?_ Ugh. No, it’s just been me and the kids since day one.”

“How many kids do you have?”

“Four,” Holtzmann says. “Mabel, Chester, Ophelia, and Guam.”

“ _Guam?”_

“Wanna see pictures?”

Erin squints. “Sure?”

Holtzmann pulls out a phone and holds it out a few seconds later.

Erin stares for a few seconds, then looks up. “Those are chinchillas.”

“Yep,” Holtzmann says proudly, putting her phone back in her pocket. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Does your single parent support group know that your children are chinchillas?”

Holtzmann makes a face. “I’ve never explicitly _said_ that they’re human…”

“So, no?”

“Stop distracting me. I’m trying to guess what group you came for.” Holtzmann closes her eyes and hums. “Bereavement?”

“No.”

“Gamblers Anonymous?”

“Nope.”

“Breastfeeding?”

“I don’t have kids,” Erin says.

“Infertility?”

“I don’t _want_ kids.”

“Scrapbooking?”

Erin’s brow furrows. “That’s a support group?”

“It’s for reformed convicts, so, yeah. When I was there, a guy named Rob—he was a bank robber, actually, which is pretty hilarious—offered to give me a free tattoo.”

“You didn’t do it, right?”

Holtzmann winks again. “What do you think?”

Erin’s actually not sure what to think.

“I’ve got to get going,” she says.

“Wait—I still haven’t guessed what you were here for.” Holtzmann taps her chin contemplatively, then suddenly her face lights up. “Oooooh, I know!”

“No you don’t,” Erin says quickly.

“Oh yes I do. I told you, I’ve been to all of them.” Holtzmann waggles her eyebrows. “LGBTQ support group, right?”

Erin’s face heats up. “No.”

“You totally were. I used to go to that, once upon a time. It was my first group, actually. Got kicked out because I was flirting with all the insecure gaybies to boost their self-confidence, and it was obvious I was coping just fine. It’s supposed to only be for people who are struggling.”

Erin presses her lips together. “I really need to leave.”

Holtzmann’s face softens. “Guess I’m being pretty insensitive. I get like that sometimes.”

“What, the woman who fakes being terminally ill and a million other things to sit in on private support groups and invalidate the very real things that people are going through? Insensitive? No, really?”

Holtzmann grimaces. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not coming across very well. I’m not trying to invalidate anyone, especially not you. You know, it doesn’t matter to me what support group you were here to attend. It’s none of my business. I should leave you alone.”

She turns to walk away, but Erin catches her arm.

“Wait—it’s okay…I’m sure you didn’t have any bad intentions.” Erin stares at the floor. “You were right, anyway. That _is_ the group I was here for.”

Holtzmann nods solemnly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been running my mouth. It’s not easy, what you’re going through—or any of them in there.” She hooks her thumb in the direction of the door where the support group was. “And I’m sorry you missed your group. Will you try again next week?”

“I don’t know,” Erin says, eyes still on her feet. “It was hard enough to work up the courage to come this time.”

There’s a pause, then Holtzmann clears her throat.

“Would you maybe, um…want to go grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Erin looks up. “What?”

Holtzmann holds her hands up. “No pressure. It’s just…I’m looking for friends, you’re looking for support…and I’ve been through what you’re going through. We could talk. If you want to. That’s it. No ulterior motives, I swear.”

“Oh,” Erin says. She bites her lip. Her heart is beating fast.

“You can say no,” Holtzmann says quickly.

“No, I think…I think I’d like that,” Erin says. “But…”

Holtzmann waits.

Erin feels like she might throw up. “I think maybe…it would be okay if there were ulterior motives?” She says the last part in a rush, then immediately can’t believe she said that.

Holtzmann’s face lights up. “Seriously? Oh man, look at you go! It’s helping already! Support group, shmupport group. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Erin gives her a little half smile. “So, um, did you have a time in mind for coffee?”

Holtzmann checks her watch. “I was thinking now, actually.”

“Oh!” Erin blushes further. “Sure.”

“You don’t have something you were running off to?”

Erin shakes her head.

“Perfect.” Holtzmann extends an elbow for Erin to take. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” Erin says, and she thinks that Holtzmann might be right—she might just be okay.

 


End file.
